


12 Reasons to Have a Stroke™

by BlueBastard



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Feelings™, Insemination/Subtle Breeding Kink, Masturbation, Multi, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Pining, Rape/Non-con Elements, Scourge Tendrils, Shibari, Smut, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-04-07 20:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14089119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBastard/pseuds/BlueBastard
Summary: Strap-on friends, we’re going to boldly stroke where no one’s stroked before!! I was toying with the idea of doing a few masturbation shorts to practise writing smut, but I never got around to it. It's high time I change that. I’ve got 12 characters lined up, each with their own reason to rub one out. These are probably going to be quite short, seeing as I can only properly smut it up when I’m piss drunk and I’m not about to develop a drinking problem over some fics.Tags will be added along the way! This fic can also be found onTumblr.





	1. [Cor Leonis] Number 1: Thinking of an Old Flame

The memory of you came out of nowhere –Cor hadn’t been with you in years. Hell, he had no damn clue where you were even stationed right now! Yet here he was, rutting restlessly in the middle of the night, plagued by visions of your lips wrapped around his cock. The Marshal had ignored these thoughts at first  _–he had more self-control than this, damn it!–_  but your memory refused to let him sleep. He closed his eyes, willing the obscene images of your naked body to the back of his mind –but you were merciless, relentless in robbing him of a good night’s rest with your wicked tongue. Cor vividly recalled how warm and soft your mouth felt as you worked your head up and down his shaft, blushing hollowed out cheeks and lust-blown eyes staring up at him –he grew hot just thinking about it. 

Those were good times –better times. It made him wonder why you two never worked out, and why he never pursued when you left him; if these feelings were anything to go by, it was obvious that the Marshal had never really gotten over it.

Cor huffed, turning onto his other side for the umpteenth time that night. He was struggling, fighting the urge to just strip down and indulge. Curse you and your delicious mouth. He needed to feel you again –he craved it, even if it was just through reliving a juvenile fantasy. The plush bedding was crudely shoved aside, dumped on the floor to make way for what he was about to do. He reached down, palming his growing erection through his sweats. A desperate groan forced its way out of his throat and into the soft, muffling surface of his pillow. His hands were by no means a fitting substitute for your delectable mouth, but at this point Cor didn’t care –all he wanted was that sweet release. Cor envisioned you gripping the top of his thighs, a deliberately slow flick of your tongue travelling up the length of his cock. 

_Astrals,_  you were such a fucking tease even back then. His fingers slipped past the waist band, settling around the base of his cock. He gave it a few experimental pumps but found that his hands were too rough. This wouldn’t do. You were much softer, gentler than this. Cor licked his lips, hesitantly retreating his hand from his pants and bringing it to his mouth. His tongue darted out, slicking up his fingers ever so slightly. The Marshal had done this to you many times back when you were together –it was strangely arousing to do it to himself and think about how it must have felt for you. The sensation was enough to break some of his inhibitions –Cor shoved the digits further into his mouth, his tongue making quick work of properly wetting them up.

Once his fingers were sufficiently lubricated the man dove back down into his sweats, grabbing his cock with renewed vigour. Cor began to move his hand at a slow and steady pace, grunting out a blissful sigh at how  _right_  this felt. This was more like it –this was you. His eyes became heavy, drifting shut as he summoned the images of your exposed body back into his mind. Pink, plump lips sliding over his cock, teeth grazing ever so slightly into his skin –your hair clinging to your face, swaying on your shoulders with every bob of your head. Cor moaned, turning his head to muffle the sound into his pillow.  _Fuck._  He was close. 

His hips jerked into his hand uncontrollably. It had been so long since he’d fucked you, but you were ingrained in his memory –your sweet, submissive moans, the rise and fall of your chest as he wrecked you, the roll of your hips as you bounced on his cock. He remembered every single detail. Cor’s hand sped up, wrist jerking desperately to chase that release. What finally did him in was the thought of you cumming, walls clenching around his cock, his name tumbling from your lips over and over again until you milked him dry.

Your name rolled off his tongue as easily as it had back then when he came.  His hand emerged from his now stained sweatpants, trembling. After all these years, even an imaginary version of you was still the best fuck he’d ever had. Cor fell back onto the mattress, breathless but satisfied. At least now he could get some sleep. He turned over, sinking his face into his pillow. For a moment, Cor swore it kinda smelled like you –but that was ridiculous.


	2. [Ignis Scientia] Number 2: Duty and Distance Got in the Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BONJOUR BITCHES. I’m here with the second instalment and this time it’s Ignis’ turn to beat the meat! Not gonna lie Iggy is a character I struggle with writing, he fought me every step of the way, but I dove deep into Ignis Hell FOR SCIENCE and came back enlightened. I hope you liked what I’ve cooked up this time!

Being the King’s advisor meant Ignis’ duties often carried him far from your loving embrace. Most of the time he managed to cope with that absence just fine –but in these past few days on the road, the insatiable yearning for your touch had been particularly hard to ignore. Night after night, Ignis lay awake in his tent, missing the warmth of your body next to his –longing to indulge in pleasures he knew only you could provide. Your scheduled phone call was a bad idea, Ignis knew this –the sound of your voice only serving to fuel the ache in his heart– but he had no idea you would actively make it worse. It started out innocent with simple chatter, yet here he was minutes later, with his pants around his ankles –cock throbbing in his grasp.

_“Ignis, please…please don’t stop.”_

Your sweet, wanton voice egged him on over the speakers, mewling soft words of encouragement. Ignis tore his gaze from the roof of the tent and looked at his phone –discarded at the top of his bedroll in favour of a more  _hands-free_ approach to your call. The hand on his cock never once stopped its sluggish strokes, even as Ignis contemplated his options. How could he resist when you begged so sweetly for him?  _Sneaky little minx–_ you were doing this on purpose. Once he got back to the Citadel you were going to answer for this torture.

“You will regret teasing me so,  _kitten,_ ” Ignis let out, bringing one of his hands to his lips and ripping off the leather material with his teeth. It was too hot in here. Your debauched whimpering was driving him mad. Ignis knew he couldn’t fight this feeling much longer –his erection twitched in his palm with every eager cry you uttered into the receiver. Knowing you were on the other side of Lucis, wet and wanting for his cock –the thought alone was unbearable. His fingers slipped under the edge of his glasses to wipe the sweat off his brow –then started their trek down his neck and torso to undo the buttons of his dress shirt. Ignis needed to do something  _–anything_ , to relieve himself from some of this heat.

This was a time sensitive issue: every passing second brought him closer to being discovered. If he didn’t finish his business soon one of his friends would undoubtedly come looking for him. Ignis stared at the tent opening, the image of one of the boys barging in and catching an eyeful of this shameful display flashing before his eyes. The gloved hand on his cock stilled for a moment. This was absolutely crazy and not to mention very _–very_  inappropriate.

He would have stopped then and there, hadn’t it been for the downright sinful purr you let out over the speakers.  _“Ignis, please…I’m so close! I miss you –I want you inside me!”_

Something snapped –every single one of his worries forgotten the moment your voice reached his ears. The leather clad hand on Ignis’ cock resumed its task with enthusiasm. His grip was gentle, much like how’d you’d treat him, but the pace he’d set for himself was urgent –needy. The coarse material of the glove provided a delicious kind of friction –no wonder you insisted he wore them during sex. Visions of your gentle hands pumping his cock provided unlimited inspiration; deft fingers danced across his shaft, making sure to pay special attention to the throbbing vein running along the underside of its length. You always did like to play with that thing, dragging your tongue along the base of his cock just shy of touching it.

Your name possessed his tongue: it was the only word Ignis was still able to form in his current state. The movements of his wrist became erratic, sliding up and down at a gruelling pace –edging the man closer to oblivion with each buck of his hips. Your depraved whimpering in his ear only spurred him on, pushing him further into a state of bliss. Little by little, Ignis lost all sense of self. For all his loquacity and fancy speech, the man sure did become a bumbling mess once he was getting close. Eventually, all words –even your name– left him. Only sensual, reserved moans remained –tumbling from his lips one after another.  

His breathing became uneven, hurried and desperate. The shift in his voice was enough to send you over the edge on your side, which in turn served as the final nail in the coffin for Ignis.

A deep, unrestrained groan rumbled in Ignis’ chest, loud enough for anyone to hear. The hand that was not currently tending to his cock shot up, smacking against his lips as he tried –in vain– to silence himself. His release hit him fast and hard: cock convulsing furiously as he came onto his exposed chest and abdomen. 

Every movement outside the tent had stilled, the campsite settling into a deathly silence. After an agonizing 30 seconds of utter quiet, Gladio’s voice rose up from outside. “You okay in there, Specs?”

Ignis waited a moment to collect himself whilst he glared at the muffled, breathless sniggering coming from his phone –then called out, as composed as he could manage. “Yes, of course. Everything in order.”

You were going to pay dearly for this once he got back to Insomnia.


	3. [Ardyn Izunia] Number 3: He’s Bored (And You’re Right There) CONTAINS NON-CON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [CHANTING] SCOURGE DICK, SCOURGE DICK, SCOURGE DICK!! Part 3 has arrived! The response I got to Ignis was WILD man. Holy shit. Thank you!! I’ve been down in Ardyn hell forever, but now I’ve been released to wreak havoc among your ranks and bring what I have learned to the people. Seeing as it’s my first work for Ardyn, I tried to walk the middle-road but that idea derailed real fuckin quick because I’m trash. I don’t know if this is what people were expecting for an Ardyn wank, but it is what it is. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I tried to make this mellow, I really did, but look at this laundry list of warnings.
> 
> CONTAINS: public masturbation, somnophilia, non-con, scourge tentacles being helpful ;)

The first time he’d pleasured himself to your image was when you stood in front of his desk, rattling off another field report that he pretended to listen to. There was no reason you couldn’t have sent it in writing, but Ardyn had requested you deliver it  _via voce_  –just for the occasion. Hearing your voice greatly helped his cause after all. Ardyn rested his chin in his hand, leaning on his desk as his devious amber eyes looked at you with mock-interest. Would you be embarrassed knowing he was stroking his cock to the thought of your naked body,  _right here –right now?_

You hadn’t paid much attention to the man, eager to finish your report and be done with it so you could return to your duties. If you had, you would have noticed the subtle sway of Ardyn’s right arm, moving back and forth under his desk. His fingers danced down the length of his cock, diving down to cup his balls –pulling and playing with the sensitive skin. You were distracted by the details of your news, staring off into the void ahead as you droned on about battle statistics. _If only you knew._

Ardyn’s fingers tensed around his cock as your curious eyes flickered over to the papers atop his work surface. Your gaze lingered for but a second, but he knew you weren’t exactly eyeing those documents in particular –something else had caught your attention. Were you wondering what his other hand was currently tending to, perhaps?

Instead of pausing his self-serving ministrations until you looked away, Ardyn’s strokes became bolder, faster and more obvious. You fell silent, the gears in your head beginning to turn. Ardyn’s eyes betrayed nothing to suggest his lewd intentions, but instead shimmered with a childlike amusement. As the hand on his cock became more frantic in its pursuits, Ardyn’s body began to react ever so slightly. His breathing deepened, chest heaving with each tug of his wrist. Then it hit you; your eyes flickered in alarm –a bright blush ebbing onto your cheeks.

“Do continue with your report, my dear,” he said, waving his free hand in a dramatic fashion to accompany the flourishing smirk on his lips. “You’ve not quite finished yet,  _and neither have I._ ” 

Why did he decide to do this? Boredom mostly –and no small amount of wickedness. Pleasure had little to do with it, and while it was a satisfying distraction –this was all about power. After you escaped his office that day, appalled and bewildered, Ardyn found himself wanting more. It was time to raise the stakes, he decided, which was how the chancellor had found himself in your chambers –looming over your sleeping form.

A cluster of inky tendrils slithered out from behind the man, snaking towards your dormant frame. You had denied him his release last time by fleeing from his office before he could finish –this time he was determined not to let that happen. They dove underneath the bedding, slowly pushing the duvet off your body. Ardyn’s eyes narrowed at your attire, a sly smirk playing at the corners of his lips. You liked to sleep in nothing but your undergarments –how fortunate. The dark appendages continued their journey, ghosting across your naked skin with a tenderness uncanny of their nature. Ardyn used this time to get comfortable in the armchair opposite the bed, making sure he had a good view of the show.

You stirred, shivering in your sleep as the tentacles began gliding up and down your legs. Ardyn’s hands busied themselves on his thighs, teasingly stroking the area in unison with the appendages on your body. He wanted to get right down to it –but where was the fun in that? The sensation of his own fingers dancing closer and closer to his arousal but never quite touching was so deliciously sinful.

A soft, sleepy moan escaped you, making Ardyn halt his movements. He looked at the bed. You were still in a deep slumber –but his daemonic friends were certainly having an effect on you. He planned on being here for quite some time after all, so getting comfortable was imperative. The chancellor shed his coat, or coats rather, until he was clad only in his dress shirt and slacks. His cock twitched against the obstructing fabric, begging for attention. Not yet, Ardyn mused, watching as you began to toss and turn in response a massive tendril wrapping around your throat. It was much more fun to draw this out.

He started to palm his erection, slowly –deliberately, eyes never straying far from your curves. There was nothing more arousing to him than watching you unravel so easily –touch after teasing touch. Even behind closed doors, Ardyn held all the strings –he had absolute control over this scene and revelled in it. You may not have been fully aware of the debauched situation you were in, but that made it all the more erotic. Ardyn’s eyes darkened, watching your chest begin to heave. Impatient fingers fiddled with the buttons of his pants, making quick work of undoing them and reaching in to release his cock.

Ardyn’s hand curled around his arousal and began to rock back and forth experimentally. It had been quite some time since he had indulged himself like this, and he had to admit there was something thrilling about it all. His fingers flexed, diving into the wine-coloured curls at the base of his cock to provide a pleasant scratch. What would happen if you awoke at this very moment? A ripple shot though his cock as he envisioned your reaction. Would you be bashful –or rather affronted, furious even? Both scenarios were equally enticing.

Part of him wanted to wake you, to crawl onto the bed and take you in the most primal of ways –but that would defeat the purpose of sneaking in like he did. Ardyn’s grip tightened –the speed at which he fondled himself increasing. You shifted once again, withering against the daemonic restraints that had started invading your most sensitive zones. Ardyn watched, mesmerized, as the slick appendages brushed past your sex, causing a sudden, weak gasp to escape you. 

The sound of your lust-filled cry went straight to his groin. A faint blush began to bloom across your body as the tentacles continued their subtle, velvety assault on your sleeping form. Ardyn felt himself inch closer to his peak with each stroke. He became bolder in his actions; spreading his knees further apart and shifting in his seat to allow his sinful fingers better access to his arousal.

With his release building, something else inside of Ardyn began to stir as well –an insatiable hunger, one he had known and oppressed for centuries. The darkness he held within surfaced, cracks and black veins appearing on his skin as it drained of all colour. Obsidian sludge oozed from his throbbing cock, replacing the otherwise healthy looking pre-cum that had gathered at the tip. It burned, but not unpleasantly so. 

His thumb ran up his length to meet the new sensation, smearing his slick juices across the head and down his shaft. A hoarse moan escaped him as he looked at you. You were a ripe mess, ready for the taking. His dark tendrils had you completely ensnared and were slowly bringing you back into consciousness. It was only a matter of time before you awoke completely, deprived and ready for release. He’d be more than happy to oblige should you ask.

Ardyn became unhinged, hips coming to meet his eager hand with jagged thrusts. The playful, mischievous feelings from before were replaced unadulterated desire and greed. You moaned, clearly this time, as one of the black tendrils slid into your aching cunt. His golden eyes lit up, locking with yours as they shot open in a blind panic. You screamed but the sound was smothered by one of the thick appendages wrapping around your mouth, further preventing you from crying out for help.

Your voice echoed in his ears –fuelling his release. With a cry akin to a daemonic roar, Ardyn spilled himself into his hand. As the waves of his orgasm retreated, so did the Starscourge; warmth flooded back into his senses as he came down from his high, gaze lazily going over your struggling shape. The chancellor stood, making for the bed you were trapped upon. Still drunk with sleep and exhausted from the stimulation you had been receiving, you frantically tried to escape this reality –unable to make sense of it all. At this point you weren’t even sure if this was a dream or not, but the deathgrip these things had you in certainly felt real. 

Ardyn tutted you, like one would scold a child, his cum-stained hand coming to crudely grasp your cheeks. There was no malice in his eyes –but you felt threatened regardless. “Leaving so soon?” He chuckled, “The fun’s only just begun, my darling pet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly? Not my favourite. I can do better, but being bound to masturbation has its limits I suppose. Just goes to show that longer isn’t always better. Anyway, I hope you liked it! MY MAN TITUS –BEHEMOTH COCK– DRAUTOS IS NEXT.


	4. [Titus Drautos] Number 4: You Drive Him Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, real-fuckin-talk? I love Drautos. I want to mount this man, alright? I’ve been looking forward to his Stroke since I started this series and hoooooooo boi, I liked rubbing my sinful hands all over this character. Surprise, there’s another desk involved, I seem to really like using those as props.

To Captain Drautos, you were a loyal subordinate –to General Glauca, a threat to be eliminated. A Glaive sworn to protect the city of Insomnia and its residents, his enemy, and the only woman to ever catch Titus’ eye. The realization that he’d developed some kind of naive crush on you came as a shock, and just about turned his whole world upside down. You were everything he’d ever wanted, but there was no room for love and devotion between duty and war –not for him, at least. Glauca’s obligations to the Empire had started to suffer under your presence. Whenever you’d come close to being hurt in the field, Drautos _always_ interfered –even going as far as knocking you out of harm’s way as the General when you crossed swords on the battlefield once. You should have died back then –and he shouldn’t have been so relieved that you didn’t. He forced himself to take his distance, willing himself to watch and feel the hurt as you fell for another man.

It was better this way, Titus told himself. You breaking his heart would ensure you would not become a weakness he couldn’t afford. Even as you moved on with your life, happy and content with the love that surrounded you, Titus made himself look–made himself accept the fact that you would never belong to him. For a while, he allowed the pain to harden him, fuelling his actions against the crown–but then you smiled at him from across the room and he felt his heart bleed and stutter all over again.

You had no idea what you did to him when you put your tender hand on his shoulder after sparring, or how his heart jumped every time you so much as looked his way. You could never find out, Titus reminded himself. That wasn’t enough to stop him, however, from indulging in childish fantasy every once in a while. In his loneliest hours, Titus could only think of you –of how he wanted nothing more than to kiss and hold you. To show you that he wasn’t some kind of monster.

He’d take you far from this place, somewhere safe and far away from the Empire’s many eyes –and make you his wife. A white picket fence, a dog or two and a few little rascals of your own running amok. That was the dream. This line of thinking was dangerous and put him in a vulnerable position. Should his superiors find out about your existence and how much you truly meant to him, Titus would certainly pay a dire price for it. For your safety and his own, he had to make do with his imagination alone.

When the hour turned late, those domestic fantasies made way for darker, more sinful thoughts. Titus was well-aware of his other, fundamentally primal, urges and the need for your curvaceous body draped over his own. It was wrong to think of you in such a way, especially knowing you belonged to someone else–but Titus couldn’t help it. You drove him crazy. Like now–you’d dropped by his office earlier today to request new equipment for out in the field. Being alone with you, behind closed doors, had caused Titus’ mind to wander: he could just lock the door, bend you over his desk and have his way with you, if it so pleased him.

Giving in to these horrible urges would be so simple–but sex wasn’t enough and if he couldn’t have everything, he’d take nothing. You leaned into his desk and Titus had to stop his eyes from wandering down your face, over the valleys of your breasts, and lower to where he wished he could touch you. He settled for staring at your lips, pink and plump –not hearing a single word you said over the deafening sound of his beating heart. Your sweet, soft lips; he couldn’t stop imagining how they would feel against his own –or wrapped around his cock for that matter. Drautos planted his hands on his thighs, fingers brutally digging in to remind him to stay in control.

Why did you have to be so damn perfect? It took every ounce of discipline he possessed not to drag that impeccable ass over his desk and plant it down into his lap where his aching cock was screaming for your attention. You needed to leave before he did something he would regret. Titus brushed off your request, telling you to take it up with Cor instead –an obvious excuse to get you out of the room as quickly as possible. You seemed upset, but he had more pressing issues to worry about.

As soon as the door closed behind you, his belt came undone. Hands shaking and brutal in their pursuit to free his cock all but ripped open the zip, making quick work of the other obstructing layers in their path. His throbbing cock emerged, already hot and dripping with arousal. This is what you did to him–and it was maddeningly unfair that he could never have you. One of his large palms circled around the base, kneading the tender flesh with practised finesse while his other hand began lazily stroking his length.

The first touch felt so incredibly welcome and relieving; Titus groaned out, knocking his head back into his chair. He was a big guy–he knew this, and it made him wonder how well you’d be able to take his cock. Whenever he closed his eyes, Titus saw you in his lap, rocking your hips back and forth with vigour–riding him like you owned him. He squeezed down, pretending it was your slick walls clenching around him. His cock twitched in response to the sinful image –the thick vein running along its shaft convulsing furiously. You were probably extremely tight and that knowledge drove him mad with desire. Titus bit down on his bottom lip, fighting back a moan as he imagined you timidly sliding onto his girth –whimpering and stretching to accommodate for his size. You were tough –never shying away from a challenge and always eager to please. With a little bit of gentle coaxing and the required prep on his part, Titus was certain you’d be able to take him.

The air inside his office became denser and hotter the longer Titus pleasured himself –breathing deepening with every stroke. At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. It didn’t matter; Titus wasn’t looking to draw this out. He was on the clock after all –and painfully aware that he hadn’t locked his office door before getting down to business. You were supposed to belong to him, not to some low-life bastard unworthy of your touch. The tugs of his wrist became manic, desperate. He wanted nothing more than to bury his face in your chest –marking your tender skin with possessive nips and bites as you chased after your highs together. You were such a good girl –perfect to be the mother of his children. Your name rolled off Titus’ lips in hoarse, needy growls as he neared his peak. He wanted to pump that delectable cunt of yours full with his seed and watch your belly swell in the months to come –eagerly awaiting the arrival of your child.

A deep, rumbling moan roared out into the office space as Titus became unable to control the violent motions of his hips any longer. The thought of your used and exhausted body, sprawled out on his bed with cum dripping from your blushing cunt fuelled his release. His hips bucked into his massive hands with unrestrained urgency –cock bobbing back and forth at an incredible speed. In his enthusiasm, Titus bumped his desk –knocking over several documents and a lamp in the process. The entire mess came crashing to the floor as he spilled himself into his hand with a violent orgasm. Thick ropes of cum shot from his cock, seemingly unending as Titus kept up the gruelling pace he’d set for himself –determined to squeeze out every last drop.

When the heat of the moment had finally calmed down, Titus stared down at the mess he’d made of himself. Love was for fools, and he was playing a dangerous game indulging in these fantasies. A life outside of war, a family –normalcy; that wasn’t in the cards for him and he needed to accept that. What he’d done now was just a temporary distraction. You were just a distraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HHHHHHHHHHHHHH I suffered writing this. I just have so. many. feelings. for this man. I hope you enjoyed~ Next up is Gladio!


	5. [Gladiolus Amicitia] Number 5: An Accidental Boner™

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (shows up six months late with Starbucks, completely disheveled and underfed) Aren’t you Gladio the new Stroke’s here? It's time to get wet with the king’s Shield, dudes! This took me forever lmao. Why u gotta be this way Gladio, hm? Even Iggy was easier to write than you. I hope you're all still interested in this series hah. My slow-writing ass is making an attempt to be better. Shout-out to the absolute angel of an anon who pointed me in the right direction, I owe you one bby.   
> Contains: semi-public masturbation, light bondage

Hand-to-hand combat had always been something of an intimate affair for Gladio. Sweat, blood and tears were shed among participants, building a bond that withstood both time and trial. The Shield found that he could always see a person’s true colours after having matched strength with them; there was just something very telling about the way one fought. It showed who had honour, bravado and loyalty to their companions. 

Lasting friendships were formed amidst the heat of battle and it was Gladio’s way to express camaraderie --which was why he’d invited you to spar in the first place. To get to know you a little better. And  _ boy _ \--did that backfire. 

Fighting you one-on-one was unlike anything Gladio had ever experienced before. It was obvious from the many battles you’d had together that you were a formidable fighter, but this was the first time your attention was directed at him, and him alone. You moved with unparalleled grace, hitting his blind spots with precise strikes --all the while remaining this graceful, untouchable figure. Gladio was big, and you used this to your advantage --going for speed and manoeuvrability rather than strength to combat his techniques. 

Smart, but not smart enough. Gladio knew that at some point you would start to get tired, and that’s when he should strike. You danced around him in circles, only striking when you knew for sure that the hit would land. But Gladio was patient. Eventually, you slipped up. 

You went down with a yelp, flailing in an attempt to grab onto something for support. Gladio threw his weight into you and locked an arm around your neck, leaving you caged in against the floor --chest to chest, nose to nose. You squirmed a bit, causing a near unnoticeable shiver to roll over him. 

You’d fought before, he’d held you down before --been this close before. Why  _ now _ did this happen? There was just something about the way you smiled, even as you were steadily losing the fight, that stirred something in his gut. You had no right looking this cute beneath him -- _ no right _ to gasp so sweetly as he pinned you down on the training mat. Anyone could see that you were a cute little thing, Gladio wasn’t blind, but whatever urges he had were under control. At least, they were  _ supposed _ to be. Gladio considered just letting go and ending the session, but his pride wouldn’t allow it --even as a growing problem presented itself inside his trousers. 

He had to  _ win _ . 

Unfortunately, you were intent on coming out on top just as much as he was. You squirmed, trying to wrestle yourself free from his hold --brushing your leg up against his thigh by accident. Gladio let out a strained groan at the welcome friction --which you mistook for a cry of effort to keep you in place. Lucky for you, your indirect intimate touch was enough of a distraction to create an opening; his hand slipped from your throat. You forced your knees up between your bodies and kicked him off, rolling back to safety. 

When the proverbial dust had settled, Gladio tapped out and rose to his feet, half-turning away so you wouldn’t notice the defined outline of his erection ghosting behind the loose fabric of his training sweats. He needed to take care of that -- _ quickly _ . 

“You got lucky this time, kid.” 

“You think?” You wheezed comically, exaggerating your breathing as you bend over to lean on your knees. “You had me on the ropes!”

Gladio smirked. Oh, you were  _ precious _ . If this was any other day, he would have loved to stay for some post-session banter --but this was an emergency. Before you could recover your breath and approach him for your usual  _ ‘good fight’  _ handshake, Gladio hurried to his duffel bag and picked it up, using it to strategically shield your eyes from his crotch. He needed to excuse himself and take care of business lest you became any wiser as to why he was so keen on keeping so much distance between you. 

“Next time I won't go easy on you any more.” He took your hand and shook it, fighting the urge to stroke his thumb across the back of your palm. “I'm gonna hit the showers. Same time tomorrow?”

“Sure thing, Gladio.” With a wink and a smile, you exited the gym. The fine shape of your retreating form did nothing to douse the fire in Gladio’s groin, however: his eyes lingered on your back-side, greedily drinking in the sight and committing it to memory. 

You were a fine-looking treat for sure. 

As soon as the door shut behind you, he was on the move. Trying his very best not slam any doors in his hurry, Gladio made a bee-line for the changing rooms. The last thing he wanted was to attract too much attention and have Crownsguard cadets storming in to check what all the ruckus was about. Luckily for him, the locker room looked to be abandoned. He checked the hall for stragglers one last time and turned on the tap. Making sure to lock the stall, Gladio slipped out of his sweats and into the shower. 

_ Alone at last _ . 

As the hot water began to cascade down his muscled back, Gladio felt the tension in his shoulders ease somewhat. Normally a shower after sparring was enough for him to relax and clear his head, but this time, whenever he closed his eyes, all Gladio could see was your face; out of breath and flushed that adorable shade of pink. Okay, so  _ maybe _ this was a bit more intense than your usual crush. Who’s to say you felt the same way, though?  _ A braver man would have just acted instead of running away to hide in the showers, _ Gladio scolded himself.

The more he thought about it though, the more Gladio came to realize why you had such an effect on him. For that very brief moment where he had you pinned beneath him, Gladio was in total control. You couldn't move unless he willed it so --and there was something incredibly arousing about that. If he hadn't been so distracted, maybe he could have made his move then and things would have ended differently --maybe you would be sharing this shower instead. 

_ “You had me on the ropes!” _

When you said that, an image flashed into Gladio’s mind that he hadn't been able to shake since.  _ Oh _ , how he'd love to tie you up; bright red ropes running over your flushed skin, knotted on your back to keep your hands tightly bound together. The mere thought sent a ripple of arousal down his spine. Gladio groaned, allowing himself to indulge in this fantasy. His hand reached down, gliding over his abdomen with feather-light finesse to finally land around the base of his cock, grabbing it in a firm grip. He was rock hard, almost painfully so, and you’d barely even touched him. Your soft, gentle gasps echoed in his mind, fuelling the rhythmic pumping of his wrist. What he wouldn't give to pull your strings, making you writhe and squirm with pleasure --slowly, deliberately winding you up only to pull away at the last second to prolong your release. You'd look nice with some rope burn, struggling against your bonds to try and touch him.

With a needy groan rumbling in the depths of his chest, Gladio’s fist collided with the tiled shower wall --causing a deep crack to fan out beneath it. He wanted you so badly. Gladio wanted you to beg, teasing your sensitive skin with light touches and kisses. He’d then bury his fingers inside of you and edge you along until you were right on the brink of orgasm. 

His cock twitched at the image of your face, contorted with pleasure and annoyance as he denied your release once again. Gladio picked up the pace, feeling a dull heat building in his groin. Your name tumbled from his lips like a desperate mantra, each syllable whispered lovingly into the tiles as his forehead came to rest against the cold shower wall. 

Gladio’s fist tightened around his cock as he threw his head back, releasing an outrageously loud moan that completely drowned out the sounds of the water hitting the stall. Had anyone been around they would have no doubt heard it echo all the way down to the gym, but at this point he didn’t care. Gladio propped himself up against the wall with one arm and leaned his hips into his fist, frantically bucking against his palm. He closed his eyes and immediately your face popped into his mind. His cock --hot, heavy and pulsing in his hand-- bobbed to the fast-paced rhythm he’d set for himself. Gladio flicked his wrist upwards in one fell swoop, gathering the beads of pre-cum on the tip and dragging them across his length and back up. His thumb traced over his cock-head --teasing the rim just the way he liked it. Meanwhile his other hand came down to pay special attention to his sack, kneading the sensitive skin with practised precision. He knew this was just a poor substitute for the real deal, but for now, his imagination was all he needed. In fact, Gladio was so lost in the fantasy of watching you ride his cock after hours of lustful teasing and sexual torment --unhinged and passionate-- that he didn’t even feel his climax approach. It caught him by surprise. He shivered as a searing hot wave of ecstasy crashed over him, eyes snapping open just in time to see the mess he’d made get washed away. Cum leaked from his cock as he continued to pump the base, absent-mindedly watching it swirl down the drain. It’s a shame it all went to waste like that --Gladio would have loved to paint your flushed, rope-burned skin with his seed, smearing it out with the tip as he watched you catch your breath, coming down from the well-deserved fucking he’d given you. 

Gladio stumbled out of the shower, still a bit shaken from the experience, and dried himself off. At that moment, he made a decision. There was no reason for him to run from you. He had nothing to lose. This time tomorrow, you were going to be his. 


End file.
